A Second Too Late
by alwayscastle-jenn
Summary: Her entire world crumbles down around her because things were just a second too late. Spoilers for Linchpin.
1. Chapter 1

**A Second Too Late**

**Part 1/3**

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><p><em>I don't know how much more love this heart can lose, and I'm dying, dying from these exit wounds.<em>

_Exit Wounds - The script_

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><p>"NO!" Kate screamed as she heard the gun shot go off. It rang in her ears, a sound she had become accustomed to over the ears, it generally was something that didn't faze her anymore, there were exceptions, but on a whole, Kate Beckett was used to a gunshot ringing in her ears. But the sound felt foreign to her as it echoed off the walls of the parking garage.<p>

Time slowed as she saw his body tumblr forward, he hit the ground at full force, the sound would haunt her for the rest of her life.

She closed her eyes, waiting for it, willing it to come. She knew she would be next, that it would be her turn, she could only wish that she got to be the first, that she never had to witness everything that was just engraved into her brain, the sight, the sound, nothing about what had just happened was something she ever wanted to have been a witness too. She felt a single tear slide slowly down her cheek, her eyes plastered shut, waiting and willing. She couldn't bear to open them, to see the inevitable sight that would be cast open her retina if she chose to do so. So she kept them close, listened for anything that would give her sense of what was happening and when it would come.

Another shot fired, she hoped it was the bullet that would bring her the same fate she just watched the man she loved receive, but instead it was the woman who had ended his life that joined his lifeless body on the ground. She opened her eyes slowly, not wanting to face the reality that was before her. The sight before her, it made her wish that it were her skull that a bullet had traveled through.

His body lie face down on the ground; his hands at his side, life had left him before his body had even had the chance to try and stop the momentum that tumbled him forward. The pool of blood that surrounded his head grew with each passing second. She could still hear the shot ringing in her ears. She knelt there, frozen, unable to move, to think, there was nothing she could do.

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><p>She crawled her way over to his body, she was unable to muster the strength to do anything else, she was sure that if she had tried to get to her feet it would be unsuccessful, crawling was her only option. She faintly was aware of the agents and other people moving around her, them taking the body of the meticulous woman, who had caused this, away. She wasn't aware of the sobs that wracked her body. She placed her hands at the side of his body, rolling him over, seeing his open eyes. They were more blue thank she had ever seen them, piercing the depths of her tear filled green ones. She placed her hands on his chest and continued to sob. This had to be a nightmare, this couldn't be reality, it wasn't possible.<p>

"I love you, Rick." She croaked out, through the sobs that racked her entire body, the parallels that created themselves in her mind were too much, she remembered being the one on the other side of this too soon ago, being the one of the receiving end of the comment, but this time there wouldn't be ay repercussions, it was too late.

She couldn't be sure of what amount of time had passed, she had put her head down on his chest, the emptiness that filled it, the lack of a heartbeat and rushing blood rocked her to the core. This could not be happening. They got through everything, no matter how many life or death situations they managed to get themselves in, they always got each other out.

This was a nightmare, before she knew it she would wake up in her bed, covered in sweat, but this horror would be over, just a figment of her brain, that she could push away, lock away, and pretend it never happened.

The next thing she had any recollection of was Esposito picking her up to her feet, removing her from him, bringing her his car while people dealt with his body. His cold, lifeless body.

She was covered in his blood, her hands, knees, too much blood. She couldn't pinpoint the time in which her sobs managed to subside. Now just silent tears rolled down her cheeks at their own will. She felt nothing, she was numb, there was nothing she could feel.

"Kate?" She could hear Esposito call her name, somewhere; she was unaware of his proximity to her.

She simply looked up at him, there was nothing else she could do. No words she could say, no other movement that seemed plausible. Her green eyes that usual shone, even in the tiniest bit, especially recently, were empty, a void of life, like the body of the man that had been taken away in a body bag now, just a pool of his blood where he used to lay. She was entranced by it, the way it spread itself out on the concrete. Mixing with the blood of the woman responsible for everything her life had become. It formed patterns on the gray concrete, it was as if it was the last part of him able to tell a story, his spilt blood trying to convey a message, one he would never be able to tell himself. She couldn't rip her eyes from the sight, the tears blurred her vision, but she felt the need to watch it. Watch the as the light reflected off it, as it flowed to fill a dip the ground of the parking garage, it filled every crevice, much like her hands.

She looked down at them, they were stark red, every possible line and bump covered in the last thing she had of him. She squeezed her hands and eyes both shut, her short fingernails digging their way into her palms, her eyes ripping open a moment after she closed them. She had to keep them open, the images in her brain were too much, it was all too soon, she couldn't stand to relive them yet.

She remembered being placed in the back of the squad car, Ryan and Esposito in the front as they made their way through the city back to the precinct. She remember the recruit that brought her a set of clothes and told her they needed the ones that she wore for evidence, the ones that were covered in now drying blood. She gave her statement, going through the motions of what had happened, as much as she was allowed to share. It was all too familiar to her, years had gone by, but this feeling was something she never thought she would have to go through again, yet here she was, making her way through nearly the exact same motions.

She remember hearing the sobs of Alexis and Martha coming from somewhere in the precinct, a location she was unable to pinpoint, but they were unmistakable. She wanted to go to the girl, explain to her that she knew how she was feeling, that things get better eventually, but she opted against it. She couldn't convince herself right now that things were going to get better, let alone the daughter of the man she watched die a short time ago, the death that she would be held partly responsible for.

Instead she made her way to the break room, she needed coffee, she was exhausted, but the last thing she wanted to do was close her eyes and get some sleep, she couldn't, it was an option. She made her way to the coffee maker, tears forming in her eyes, coffee had always been their thing, always his thing to her, and now as miniscule and insignificant as it seemed, she wished more than anything that he was here for this. She changed her mind, heading for the old coffee maker of the precinct, and pouring herself a styrofoam cup of the dark liquid. She put it down on the table, hoisting herself up into one of the chairs, and pushing the cup toward the middle of the table to lay her head down. Tears spilled out of her eyes, she did nothing to try and fight or stop them, and she knew it would be a useless battle, one she didn't want to fight.

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><p>Seconds passed, turning to minutes, and into hours, she was sure. She sat there, stared at the coffee machine, his coffee machine, the dark liquid she had poured herself went untouched, growing cold, the same way his body surely had as his heartbeat stopped, the blood stopped flowing through him and poured out of his body onto the concrete of the parking garage.<p>

"Come on, Kate," Lanie said to her as she walked into the break room, Esposito standing and leaning against the doorframe. Her arm was stretched out straight along the table, her head laid against it and her sleeve wet from where her tears had landed upon it.

She shook her head in response to Lanie. She couldn't go home, she couldn't be there right now.

"Kate, hunny, I know," Lanie sighed, walking the short distance to Kate's back, rubbing a hand along it. "But you can't stay here, we'll get you home, I can stay if you want, make some dinner, you can get some sleep."

She continued to shake her head as Lanie got her to her feet and lead her out of the precinct. She managed to break the soft grip Lanie had on her upper arm, placed there simply for support, and she slumped her body in her desk chair before she began to sob again.

Everywhere she looked there he was, she couldn't go home to her apartment he had invaded so many times, there was no where she could be, nothing in her life that didn't hold part of him anymore or didn't remind her of him in so way. He walked into her life four years ago and turned her world upside down, managed to sneak himself into every aspect of her life before she had a chance to notice and stop him. And here she was four years later wishing he were here, wishing that he was invading her personal space and every aspect of her being. Yet instead his body lay in a morgue, cold and no longer living.

She needed to pinch herself, wake up from the nightmare she was trapped in, but as she squeezed the skin on her form arm between her nails, she didn't wake up, there was no nightmare, no escaping this, it was reality, and she was stuck in it.

She made the mistake of squeezing her eyes shut, not wanting to see the looks of desperation spread across the faces of Lanie and Esposito. It played over in her mind as if she were there again. She could smell the blood that stained the floor of the parking garage, feel the cool air the prickled her skin through the layers of clothing, the concrete under her hands and knees, his blood dying her skin all over again. She tried to force the images from her brain, with no success, she felt Lanie wrap her arms around her, she forced her eyes open again, the tears poured from them. This couldn't be happening, he couldn't be gone, it wasn't possible.

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><p>Lanie and Esposito brought her to her apartment, opening the door for her as she poured herself into it, curling her body into the chair in her living room.<p>

"Are you sure you don't want me to stay, Kate?" Lanie asked her. "I don't mind."  
>"No, Lanie." She managed to croak out, her throat raw, and her words quiet, as if not to disturb the silence.<p>

Lanie walked over and gave Kate a small squeeze to her shoulder.

"Call if you need anything, any time." She said, giving her a longing look before she nudged Esposito out of the apartment.  
>"Are you sure it was a good idea to leave her alone?" He asked as they got into the elevator of Kate's building.<p>

"She will be fine, she's strong, and she's smart, she wont do anything rash. If the girl wants to be alone who am I to try and change her mind or tell her no, she just lost the love of her life."

Esposito nodded, not being able to imagine the pain and hurt that Kate was going through, and surely she was blaming no one but herself.

She shut off all the lights in the apartment, the dark was better, just a simpl glow from a candle that sat on her side table, she didn't have to face everything in the dark, she could pretend this wasn't happening, that she hadn't just watched the life drain from the man that she loved, in the dark. She had traded the clothes they gave her at the precinct for yoga pants and an old sweater from the academy, it engulfed her, much to big for her small frame, but it was better that way, she could hide in it, wrap her entire self in it and think about anything that was the world in front of her. She poured herself a small glass of rum, it sat next to her untouched, alcohol wasn't the answer, she knew that, and she knew it wouldn't help, nothing would make her forget. She sat in the chair, swirling the dark liquid around the glass, becoming mesmerized by the pattern of it. But she couldn't even look it for long, it looked nothing like the blood he lost, but it reminded her of it anyways. That was the worst part, remembering all the blood that spilled out of his body. There was so much, too much. She swore her hands still had a tinge of red to them, even through all the scrubbing she had done at the precinct. She had scrubbed her entire body until it was raw, hoping she could scrub away the thoughts and feelings that consumed her being.

Kate Beckett appreciated her life more than anyone she knew, she had been so close to death, had so many brushes with it in the past that she was thankful for every moment she got to spend alive, but she couldn't help a small part of her that wished so much she had met the same fate that he had this afternoon. Things would be easier, and she knew, as much as she shouldn't wish she weren't dead, she couldn't help it. In that brief moment, after she watched his lifeless body hit the ground, she was sure this was the end. They say you see your life flash before your eyes in the moments before your death, and that's what happened, she watched the life drain out of the body of the man she loved. The man she never got to tell she loved, the man she kept the secret of knowing his love for her from, she couldn't help but regret it all. Regret the secrets and the lies, and being the reason they never got their chance, the reason they missed their shot.

She put the glass of alcohol down on the side table and blew out the burning candle, leaving her in pure darkness. Her blinds had been shut tightly, no light from the city that surrounded her able to peak its way into her apartment. She dragged her feet to her bedroom, she didn't know how late it was, didn't really care. She left her phone on the table where Lanie had put it next to her before leaving her, she wouldn't need or feel any sort of want to check it. She would be up at the brink of dawn and off the precinct just like every other morning, she had to, any sense or normalcy in her life, she would cling to it.

She crawled under the thick blankets of her bed, pulling them up to her chin, as if to shield her from the harsh extremities of the world. She felt numb, the feeling spreading through out her entire body, to the tips of her fingers and toes. She hoped that maybe, just maybe in the morning she would wake and this all would be some horrible nightmare she had been unable to wake herself from so far. That it was all in her mind, and she wouldn't have to face it, though she doubted that would be the case. She couldn't help that wish tomorrow, when she finally managed to pull herself from her bed and got herself to the precinct somehow that Rick would be sitting in the chair he claimed as his own next to her desk, a warm latte waiting for her on her desk, greeted by his warm smile and eyes. She could hope, hold onto the possibility that it could happen, and if not she could bask in the memory of what it used to be. She would fight sleep as long as she could, stare at the ceiling, try to void the day's events from her brain, but she was sure it would take her eventually, it always did. She would hope that when the inevitable took over, ripping her consciousness away, that she didn't dream, because she was sure that it would not be happy, and she didn't want to have to relive the day in her dreams, the wounds were too fresh, still raw, she had refused to accept the fact that he was gone, the last thing she wanted was to have to watch him be ripped away from her all over again.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Chapter 2: Outrunning the Thoughts**_

She jolted awake to the blaring sound of her alarm going off somewhere in the distance, soon realizing the sound came from her phone that was placed on her bedside table, 7am it read as she reached to turn it off. The alarm she had set to go off each and every morning, which she clearly had forgotten to turn off when she crawled into her bed approximately 5 hours ago. Her head throbbed mildly, not enough to convince her to pull the covers back up to her chin and head to sleep again, but enough to be an annoyance that she just wished would go away. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had even traces of a hangover, but the sugar in her rum and cokes all night were definitely the cause of her pounding head, dry mouth and extreme thirst.

She mostly chose not to drink too much anymore because of her father, not that it was a worry that crossed her mind much anymore these days, but it still didn't feel right after all she had gone through helping him to get sober. She remembered the days all too vividly, the drunken phone calls she would receive while she was still relatively new in the NYPD, not yet making detective, and having to trek all the way back to her childhood home in order to pull him out of the bottle long enough to put him to sleep and make sure he didn't choke on his own vomit. It happened far too long until she finally broke, a fighting match between the two of them about her no longer wanting to be the parent in the relationship, the night would be forever burned in her mind. When he finally told her that he was going to his first AA meeting, she sighed in relief, and the two of them never looked back. He had struggled with it, but he was so ready when he finally went, to not long let go of the substance abuse, but to have his daughter back, it made it all that much easier for Jim Beckett to become sober. She could hardly imagine that it had been nearly 5 years since he muttered those words to her, though she never could have imagined how far the two of them would have come since then.

They both dealt with Johanna's murder in equally destructive ways. Jim with the alcohol, and Kate with her own addiction with the case. Shortly after joining the NYPD, still being one of the newer uniforms to the precinct she would sit for hours down in the archives late at night, bribing the officer on duty to let her in. She had been over the files, the evidence, picked over every detail with a fine tooth comb so many times in those months she quickly lost count of the hours that she spent, the times she traced her fingers over the picture of her mother, lying shot dead in the alley. She could recite the case files, every single word in her sleep those days, her obsession with finding the people responsible for the most destructive thing in her life and them having to pay for what they had done consumed her. It became the reason she continued to breathe, and filled every second of her life. It became just as, if not more destructive than Jim's drinking. But it was also all those years ago she vowed to let the case go, the prospect of making detective pulling her out of the spiral she had found herself in. Montgomery being partially to thank for getting her out of everything back then. He helped her not only let go, but gave her the promise of something new to live for, a new purpose in life.

It was all years ago, but the memories were still vivid in her mind, she was sure they always would be. Now her and Jim always tried to grab lunch or breakfast on a weekly basis, she tried to make church with him on the occasional Sundays she had off, the two vowing to spend time catching up on the week's events with one another. She was sure it was somewhat out of obligation, like it had been all those years ago to make sure that Jim was keeping up the sobriety, or that Kate wasn't drowning herself in work and Johanna's case, but at the same time, it felt more like something they each deserved to do for the other these days. They were the only family that each other had left, and both knew more than anything that Johanna would never allow them not to be there for each other. She felt closer to her father now than she had in years, calling him when she had tough days at work to talk afterwards, or asking about his fishing trips up to the cottage with his friends. Even if it was somewhat of an obligation, it never felt like one, more of a tradition these days.

She managed to roll herself up to a seated position, placing her feet on the cold hardwood of her floor. She needed water, an advil, and a run to clear her head. All these thoughts about the past, yet still in the back of her mind she couldn't wrap her head around the events of last night. Had she really spent the night drinking and flirting with Richard Castle after stumbling across a quiet bar when all she wanted was a drink and some alone time. She was pretty sure she couldn't have possibly dreamed up something quite that elaborate. She pulled on running clothes before she managed to drag herself out to the kitchen in search of the few things she desperately needed right now. She had learned quickly that running was something that always helped her clear her head, no matter what, and it certainly helped in kicking the hangovers she used to get much more frequently in college. As painful as it would be trudging out into the cold air of March, traces of snow still found on the New York City sidewalks, it would do her more good than continuing to lay in bed with her thoughts. She chugged down a water bottle along with two advil, grabbed her phone, setting it to her running playlist and shoving it in the armband she had thrown on earlier. Lacing her running shoes up tight she headed out the door to her apartment in an attempt to outrun the thoughts that were quickly over running her brain.

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><p>Castle slowly cracked open an eye, the sun was streaming down on his face, making it impossible for him to continue to stay asleep. He really should have thought to close his blinds before he climbed into bed and passed out last night. Sure enough it was just past 8am, the curse of not being able to sleep in after a night of drinking continued to haunt him, you'd think he would have gotten used to it by now. He groaned, running his hands over his face and fingers through his hair. It was far too early to be up when he got home as late as he did last night, but now that he was awake there would be no more falling back asleep, that he was sure of. He blindly reached for his phone that he would have placed on his bedside table last night, not that he really expected to have any messages, it was just after 8am, on a Saturday, no one in their right mind would willingly be up at this hour. Sure enough all he had was another email from Gina about the status of his new novel. That was something that could wait until later, she wouldn't expect a reply from him for hours, knowing well enough that he didn't roll out of bed in the mornings until it was absolutely necessary.<p>

Surely some coffee would help, he thought as he pushed himself out of bed and headed to his kitchen. The floor of the loft was cold, the weather outside still rather chilly for March, he couldn't wait for the nicer days. The coffee maker starting to sputter as he threw in some coffee grounds and turned it on, pulling a mug down from the cupboard above it. He rested his elbow on the countertop and his head in his palm, watching the carafe slowly fill with the dark liquid. He figured he could fill his day with errands and mindless activities, he should be writing, but that didn't seem appealing to him at all. Not that groceries, laundry, or anything else he should get done sounded overly exciting, but it would be better than staring at the blinking cursor of a blank word document. He would sit there in his office with it taunting him, daring him to write words on the blank document in front of him, only for him to end up hating them and delete them moments later. It had been all he had been doing for the past month or so since finishing up the last Derrick Storm novel. He had killed off his main character, and as right as it felt at the time, new inspiration seemed to be non-existent to him.

He filled his cup to the brink with coffee, dragging his feet over to the couch and setting it on the coffee table before he headed to pick up the Saturday paper that would be sitting outside the front door to his loft. He flopped down onto the couch, back against the armrest, feet propped up on the other side. Flipping through the paper and doing the crossword would certainly kill some of the morning hours that he disliked so greatly. He settled down on the couch, coffee mug and the paper in hand, his phone on the coffee table in front of him, just in reach, per the chance that someone he actually wanted to answer messaged him.

He heard his phone ring, pulling him from the daze of the crossword he had fallen into. His ex-wifes name, number and picture popping up on the screen. _Gina. _It taunted him, made a chill run down his spine, she was the absolute last person he wanted to talk to right now. He knew he was late on his manuscript, and he knew that when his mother had visited a week ago, and had lunch with her she told her about how little writing he was doing. He knew if he were to answer it would be the same nagging voice he had divorced all those years ago on the other line. He hit the deny button quickly, without regret. He would deal with her at some other time. His manuscript was only a week late, that was nothing. He had just killed off Derrick Storm, his pride and joy in a character for the last while, it was normal for him to need a little bit more time before he decided to invest and dive into something new.

His phone dinged with a text nearly a minute later. Gina again of course. Something about how she knew that he was avoiding her calls, and if he continued to do so that she also knew where he lived, she had lived there with him once upon a time, so it wasn't like she couldn't come find him at the loft. He just simply sighed and closed the message. Avoidance was definitely the answer to this, or so he hoped.

He didn't regret the marriage that Gina and him had, it had been a good thing at the time. They were young and in love, and both figured why not? But if he had learned one thing from it, it was not to date, let alone marry and divorce your publisher, he definitely wouldn't be making that mistake again anytime soon. The one and only marriage and divorce he currently had under his belt had been over for nearly seven years now, ending almost as abruptly as it began, something Castle was also glad about. No long drawn out divorce with messy financials, kids, or ownership. They simply signed the papers, quick and easy. He also couldn't be happy that it ended before things got even more serious, such as a house and kids. They soon learned after the marriage that they were too very different people having rushed into something that wasn't ideal for the either of them, and ended it right then and there. Yet, much to his dismay sometimes, Gina still haunted him in the form of his publisher. Castle simply agreed with her these days, promising things only to later go against them. He wrote his books the way he chose, and that was something she had always hated. That no matter what she suggested and said he should do, he would do what he wanted, he was the best seller after all.

He set a reminder on his phone for a couple hours later, titling it 'phone Gina', as he would prefer she not come knocking at his door at anytime. She was tolerable over the phone, but if she ended up coming to his home, he could just see her strapping him into his desk chair until he began to write, and that was not something he wanted to deal with, ever. He would sit down and try to write tomorrow, spend the day in front of his laptop and demand that his fingers and brain work together to create words, that hopefully he wouldn't hate. But today he'd spend relaxing, nursing the little bit of a headache that was quickly approaching and hoping that one gorgeous detective he met last night would answer the text he sent her before pouring himself into bed at some ungodly hour that morning.

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><p><strong>Hope everyone enjoyed the second chapter! A little bit more background into the timeline I've created and changes I've made. The next chapter we will definitely be delving a little bit more into the story.<br>****Have to thank my wonderful girls again for their love and encouragement, and Logan for always keeping me on my grammar A-game.  
>Reviews are always appreciated, and the next chapter, if not up this weekend, will definitely be up by Monday evening!<strong>


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